


Sharing Her

by fannishliss



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Sex, F/M, Self-cest, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-08
Updated: 2011-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-26 15:39:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>   The Ninth Doctor comes to the end of his rope, and Rose and Ten show up to give him a reason to live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharing Her

**title: Sharing Her**  
author: [](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/)**fannishliss**    
pairing:  Nine/Rose/Ten  
rating: nc17  
warnings:  light bondage  
spoilers:  none  
length:  3679  words  
Author’s Note: [](http://doctor-rose-fix.livejournal.com/profile)[**doctor_rose_fix**](http://doctor-rose-fix.livejournal.com/)   [Summer '11 Fixathon](http://doctor-rose-fix.livejournal.com/195335.html),[  prompt from](http://doctor-rose-fix.livejournal.com/195335.html?page=8#comments)   [](http://phoenikxs.livejournal.com/profile)[**phoenikxs**](http://phoenikxs.livejournal.com/)   for Nine/Ten/Rose: “Preferably as smutty as possible including jealous, possessive Nine. Because the world needs more OT3 fics featuring these three!”  This is take two, the more smutty version.

 _ **Summary:   The Ninth Doctor comes to the end of his rope, and Rose and Ten show up to give him a reason to live.  
**_  

The emptiness inside his head rang like a bell.

He’d never been a big fan of his own species.  He’d always been an outsider, an oddball, even a rebel.  He’d been disinherited by his family, exiled, tried as a criminal -- little did they know how dangerous he really was; how he’d ultimately bear responsibility for the destruction of his homeworld and the entirety of his race; how he’d listen through the silence for any whisper, any inkling at all that another Time Lord still lived, but hear nothing. 

The silence was killing him.

He’d tried to stay busy, letting the Tardis guide him throughout time and space, saving worlds, killing monsters, but the more he fought, the emptier he felt. 

He’d lived for a thousand years -- more or less -- at some point, he'd lost track.  Nothing felt new.  Nothing felt meaningful.  Even saving people had become a chore, sullied by the chaos and destruction such conflicts always entailed.

He’d come to the end, the very end.  How could he go on?

Why should he go on?  What was the point?

Looking around, he had to admit, this time she’d taken him to a place both very remote and very beautiful. 

The world upon which he stood was lifeless at this point in time.  Its sun had faded and hung distant, small and blue in a sapphire sky.  He stood atop the tallest of a jagged chain of ice-covered peaks, and he wondered why he should go back inside.  Why shouldn’t he just stand here, breathing, till he froze to death, letting his heartbeats slow and slow until they finally faded to nothing.

Through the silence around him he heard the one sound he couldn't have expected: the grinding of the Tardis’s engines. 

He whirled around, but she was still there, right where she’d landed.

But a few feet away, she was materializing again. 

Evidently, he was coming to save himself. Had he really gotten that bad?  Yeah, maybe, he had.  It gave him a bit of a headache, but really, as paradoxes go, it was fairly straightforward. Obviously, he survived this moment in time, to live on and at some point, come here to give himself a reason to live.  Simple enough if you looked at it from a certain point of view, and ignored the rules about crossing timelines-- he'd certainly done it plenty of time before.  Sighing, he threw his shoulders back, and waited to see what he had to say.

The man who peered out at him from the other Tardis wore a skinny brown pinstripe suit, trainers, and that coat Janis Joplin had given him, the time he’d saved her concert-goers from the alien acid.   He had brown hair, fluffed out into nicely gelled spikes, and big brown eyes.

The brown-suited him held out his hand, and in a bad Austrian accent, intoned, “Come with me if you want to live.”

He rolled his eyes so hard he worsened his own headache.  “Well, you wouldn’t be here if I wanted to live, would you?  But if the paradox holds, you’ve come up with some great reason to convince me to live on. I really hope I’m not my own grandfather.”

The brown-eyed Doctor frowned and did some mental calculations, finally responding, “Even if you are, that’s not why I’m here.  I remember this moment all too well, and I definitely have a reason for you to live.”

“Right. But I’m not going to remember it, am I?”

“Technically, no.  But it’ll better than remembering, I promise you.  Come inside?”

The Doctor sighed.  At least meeting himself was something he hadn’t done in a while.

The Tardis was just as he knew it.  “Do you come next, then?” he asked. 

“I’d rather not say,” the brown-eyed him answered. “Follow me, and you’ll see.  I have such a wonderful surprise for you.  Best. Surprise. Ever!”

The Doctor was a bit leery of this giddy personality.  What could he possibly be so happy about?  Perhaps he’d gone mad. Perhaps he roamed throughout the Universe searching for the perfect tea biscuit, and he wanted to invited himself to high tea.  He wouldn’t put it past himself.

But no, the door hadn’t opened onto the galley, but rather, to the corridor leading to sleeping quarters. 

He’d been avoiding his sleeping quarters because he hated to sleep.  When absolutely necessarily, he retired to the rooms his third incarnation had set up while he lived on Earth working with UNIT during the 1970s -- comfortable, plain, easy on the senses, and populated by memories of a simpler time.

The furnishing were familiar -- bed, bureau, secretary, armchairs -- except for the soft, thick Andarvian carpet that covered most of the floor, and the raw silk coverlet of dusty crimson, folded down at the end of the bed.

And on the bed, propped up on pillows, was such a shocking sight that his hearts jumped and tripled their tempo.

A woman.  A human. Very beautiful, highly aroused, and completely, utterly naked (if you didn’t count the silk ropes binding her hands to the headboard, which he should be forgiven for not counting).

“Doctor!” she called out, obviously happy to see him -- very, very happy, by the smell of it.

“What!  What!  What is the meaning of this?  Are you mad?” He rounded on his brown-suited self, who was smirking very smugly. 

“Doctor, meet your once and future bondmate, Rose Marion Tyler.  Rose, you remember my ninth incarnation.” 

“Very pleased to see you, Doctor,” she sighed.  Her thighs rubbed together in a most distracting way.

Fury toppled over the top of confusion.  He grabbed his future self by the arm and roughly dragged him out into the corridor.

“Are you mad?” he repeated.  “What could you possibly be thinking?  What have you done to that girl?”  Have I become some kind of monster? he thought.

“Listen, and listen well.”  The brown eyes, deadly serious, pinned him.  “You’re at the end of your rope.  Not only am I not the crazy one in this hallway, I’m pitching you the life vest back to sanity. More than that -- she’s your ticket to life, to actual happiness. She badgered me into this, and thank goodness she did.  You’ve barely slept or eaten the last month, have you?”

Food had become unimportant, like everything else, and sleep only led to nightmares.

“Doctor! Doctor!” the girl called from his bed, sweetly, cajoling.

A shiver ran all the way from his brainstem to his loins, and back again.  He’d never felt anything quite like the way her voice resonated against his temporal sense, as though she were somehow outside time, somehow more than just a young human girl, naked on his bed.

“In there?  That’s no ordinary girl.  She once wielded enough power to pull apart time and space, and she did it, all of it, just to keep you safe.”

“Keep me safe? That slip of a girl?”  Bafflement and fury couldn’t delude him from noticing that he was becoming painfully aroused by the attractions of the naked girl calling to him from his bed.  He needed a distraction, he needed to get away. “Bondmate?”  That was no good; why had he said that, of all things.

“There hasn’t been a truly mated Gallifreyan in millenia -- till she came along. We liked to pretend that Rassilon saved us from superstition, but what he really did was rip our hearts out. Barren for millenia, reproducing through looms -- what kind of life is that for a race of nigh-immortal touch telepaths?”

“No life at all,” murmured the Doctor, remembering how he’d stolen the Tardis from the junkheap and run away to live back before the Intuitive Revolution. Those days were like a dream to him now. 

“Look in your mind; listen for the silence -- and you’ll hear her for yourself.”  The dark eyes were full of compassion now.

The Doctor trembled in dread.  He couldn’t bear the silence; it was the worst thing of all, out of a life of disconcerting changes, disappointments, and outright horrors.

“Listen,” his other self encouraged.

Cautiously, he listened.

Where there had been only silence, he heard music, a beautiful, haunting melody. 

Tears sprang into his eyes. “What is that?” he gasped.

“That’s Rose.  That’s part of who she really is,” he answered.

“That’s ... that’s amazing, that’s like the song of time itself.”

“Yes, it is,”  his dark-eyed self answered solemnly.

“Why?  How?”  the Doctor asked.

“I don’t know.  She loves us.  Come on, she’s waiting. And so patiently too,” he added, wickedly.

Gently, the brown-suited Doctor led himself into his own bedroom where Rose lay waiting on the bed. 

The other him helped him off with his leather jacket and folded it across the arm of the chair, then knelt down and unlaced his boots, pulled them off, and freed his feet from their socks.

The thick, soft Andarvian rug, threaded orange and crimson, was quite an improvement over the bare stone floor, but he couldn’t just stand there, wiggling his toes all night.   “Rose,” he said, hesitant.

“Yes,” she answered, looking at him with so much love he nearly staggered. 

“Is this really... do you?” he asked.

“This is your first time with me, but it's not mine with you.  It was so, incredibly, mind-blowingly good, our first time, because you began to remember that you’d already had me.  This is no crime, love.  Come and take what’s rightfully yours, and freely given.” 

The words rang a bell -- the Pythian marriage ceremony.  Curse Rassilon for a fool -- what had he done?

The Doctor tore off his jumper and threw it to the floor, followed by his jeans, and he crawled onto the bed to lie between her legs.  She smiled at him and hummed in happiness.

“Why are your hands bound?”  he whispered. 

“Don’t you like it? All tied up like a present in red ribbon?” she answered.  There was laughter in her voice and love in her eyes. Only a few moments ago, he wouldn’t have believed it possible that there was that much joy left anywhere in the universe.

The Doctor jumped as he felt a hand touch his back.  It was his own future self, who’d also gotten rid of his clothing.

Shocked anew, the Doctor shouted, “What in the name of the vortex do you think you’re doing now?”

“You haven’t done this before,” said his other self, a sparkle in his brown eyes.  “You’re ashamed of it,” he whispered.

“I must’ve done. I have a grand-daughter!” he hissed, embarrassed.

“Well, but you can’t remember all that, and besides that was hundreds of years ago. The Curse of Pythia is dust now.  All that’s left is you, and Rose, and well, me of course.” 

The Doctor glared daggers.  His future self certainly could run on.

“Have you breeched?”  his cheeky self asked, grinning.  His habit of over-enunciating was a bit annoying.  

“He hasn’t,” Rose said.  “I’d be sort of offended, but this is hard for you, isn't it.” 

“Apparently, not hard enough,” his other self stated between his teeth. 

The Doctor turned bright red.  “Is that, will that, be absolutely necessary?” 

The brown eyes widened with import.  “You don’t, you DO NOT, want to miss the full experience.  I promise you, it’s a thousand times worth the mortification.  Just get over the hump, as it were, and you’ll wonder what all the fuss was about.  Humans do this all the time, you know.” 

“The hump,” Rose chortled, laughing merrily beneath him, and the Doctor slumped.  It wasn’t so bad though, slumping against her perfect, milk-white, delectable-smelling breasts.

“Doctor, why d’you sound so posh?” Rose frowned.  Even her frown was captivating, the way her brown eyes flashed and her mouth made that adorable moue.

“I’ll go more Northern when I loosen up a bit, I think,”  his future self said.

“Oi, I’m right here!” he said, attempting to let go the reins of his dignity.

“That’s ever so much better.  Lord, I’ve missed you sometimes,”  Rose sighed.

“Can’t you, at least, go away?”  the Doctor asked, hopelessly, to his other self.

“No.  You might run away.  Or refuse to complete the act.  Or, I don’t know, a thousand things a despondent Time Lord might suddenly think up. I’m helping you through this.  Besides, I’ll enjoy it,” he said, smacking his consonants.

“How did I ever get to be so perverted?” the Doctor asked. He’d blushed so hard, so many times in the past half hour, that his face felt worn out.

“It’s all Rose.  She’s a wonderful influence,” his other self said, and to the Doctor’s horror, he scooted forward to kiss her deeply, not six inches from the Doctor’s own face. 

“I love it when you’re like this, Rose. So soft, so sweet and submissive.” He dove in again, to plunder her mouth, and Rose moaned pleasantly, moving her hips in a gentle undulation that caused the Doctor’s loins to swell with a painful twinge.

“You should see her in action, though.  She’s magnificent.  I’ve seen her face down the most horrible things. Believe me, she can give,”  the brown eyed Doctor suckled on nipple till it stood stiff, “as good as she gets,” and he did the same to the other.

Her moan of pleasure sank deep into the place in the Doctor’s brain where, miraculously, it was silent no more.

The Doctor felt the thrill that ran through Rose at her lover’s touch.  And I am her lover, or, I will be, he realized.

“Has he breeched yet?”  his other self asked again, cheeky.

“Not quite... he’s very close though...” she answered, breathlessly.

“I can’t wait,” his other self said.  “Please, may I?” 

“Well.... of course, you may,”  Rose answered, a hint of a growl in her voice. 

“Excuse me, old fellow,” his newer version said. “Shove over, just for a bit, won’t you?”

The Doctor, surprised, felt Rose tilt him off to the left side of the bed, aided by a gentle shove from his counterpart.  In a heartbeat, the long, skinny, future him was on top of her. 

“Oh, Rose, you don’t know how good you feel underneath me,”  the skinny one said. 

“Yes, of course, I do,” Rose answered, smiling widely.  She ran her tongue teasingly over her teeth.

“So wet, so hot,”  he moaned.

“Yes -- I want you so much!” she answered. 

“Here, here, feel us,” the future one said, groaning, and reached out to touch a finger to the Doctor’s temple. 

Oh, he can feel us both, Rose said, full of wonder.

Yes, he’s me, so of course he can.

But why is he so afraid?

Not afraid exactly, more like conditioned.  Gallifrey was awfully backward during my upbringing.

Why must it be so hard for him to let go?

I’ve seen timelines when he does, involving some horrible trauma; it’s almost worse than the repression. 

But oh, aren’t you.... ah, yes, Doctor, I love that!

Let me in, dear!

It’s so good, Doctor, god, I love that-- the feel of it, pushing its way out of you, right into me, oh, my god!

Rose gave a mighty thrust with her hips that took the younger Doctor by surprise, but her lover stayed seated.  Somehow the Doctor kept the mental link from breaking as he pushed all the way inside Rose, his body stilling as his member began to pulse inside her. 

Rose moaned in ecstasy and her mind filled with shapes and colors, meaningless, beautiful patterns.

“Please,” the Doctor said, without realizing he’d spoken.  His voice was hoarse. He licked his lips, swallowing.

“Please,” he repeated.  “I want…  I want you, Rose.” 

“Of course you do," his future self said. “You’ve never wanted anything but her."

"That's… that's why I'm here!" she gasped, through her pleasure.

He’s ready, dear, the Doctor heard through the link. 

Ah, ah, I’m so glad, Rose replied. Even her mental voice was breathless, sparkling with bliss.

Gently, Rose’s lover eased away from her and rolled to the right. 

The Doctor took his place -- back where he’d been before, but with a swollen thickness in his loins he’d spent a lifetime wishing away.  It was happening, now; it was going to happen....

Just let it, Rose said. Sink into me, my Doctor, please...

It was almost like pain, but ecstasy too, as his hardened member emerged from its discreet opening, pushing directly into Rose’s welcoming body. 

Can’t you feel it?  she asked him. Isn’t it like a miracle, how easily we fit together?

Yes! the Doctor answered, overcome by bliss as he slipped inside her.  His counterpart was stroking him, soothing his back, kissing his cheek, wiping away his tears.    

Can you feel the bond? Rose asked.  How could your people ever have given this up? 

We were cursed, he answered.

She shifted under him, tilting her hips, and he sank all the way into her.  Both of them cried out, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure of their connection.  The other Doctor was moaning along with them, experiencing it through the link.  The Doctor hadn’t ever pictured sharing his first time -- he hadn’t ever imagined having a first time -- but he couldn’t find it in him to feel jealous. 

He was continuing to swell inside her as his member sought out the places inside her most alive with nerves and began to pulse against them.  Her body temperature was so much higher than his, he felt nearly burned, but it was heaven, sheer heaven. 

And inside her mind, it was just as lovely.  That, miraculous, beautiful music, it was always there, looping through the background of her thoughts, the basis of her reality. 

Joining with Rose, it was like swimming in an ocean of passion.  She loved him so much, he felt tiny in comparison. 

“Ah, Rose, Rose!” he cried out.

“She’s everything you ever wanted,” said his other self in his ear.  “She’s so perfect, so beautiful-- she saves you again and again.”

“I -- I can’t --” the Doctor cried out.

“Sh,” Rose hushed.  His other self, lying on his side, was pressed against the two of them, stroking his back, his neck, kissing him, guiding him to Rose’s mouth. 

Let go, Rose said in his mind. 

He had no other choice.  So he did.

He hips went fluid, moving in a slow, subtle undulation, barely moving at all, but just enough that his member slid slightly in and out, caressing her inner walls.  She was so smooth, so wet, it felt wonderful.  His every pulse sent a surge of passion resounding through both their minds.

Now you’ve got it. She likes it a little harder, from right here --

The Doctor felt the hand on his back move lower.  His counterpart was urging him on, guiding his movements.  He was grabbing his own backside!

With a low growl, the Doctor finally let himself go.  He stopped worrying about hurting Rose.  He stopped detailing every sensation.  He just gave in to the urge to take the woman underneath him and claim her as his own. He could feel her acquiescence, her open acceptance of him in both body and mind, her excitement and joy as he let go.  He could feel the pleasure he was giving her, sex against sex, and the thrills he was sending throughout her body with every move.   
   
“Untie her hands, you -- now!” he ground out.  The brown eyes lit up, and instantly his other self did as he demanded.  The twisted silk ropes fell easily away, and the Doctor gathered up her freed hands in each of his own, pressing palm to palm and pinning them on either side of head. 

“Who do you belong to, Rose?”  he demanded.

“You! You, Doctor!” Rose cried aloud.

“And me, you’ll have me in return?”  Maybe this bond had already been sealed, but he had to hear her say it.

“Yes! My Doctor!” Rose cried.  

The bond opened out, as fiery and golden and amazing as the vortex itself.  The bliss as their minds fully touched and bonded was overwhelming.  Buried as deeply inside her body as he could get, the Doctor released, and Rose screamed in bliss along with him. 

Slowly, their bodies relaxed.  The other Doctor soothed and stroked and kissed them through it, murmuring nonsense and praise.  He was as sweaty and flushed as they were, but as the Doctor finally eased his way out of Rose, he keened beseechingly.

“Rose, I need you--” 

“Oh, yes --” Rose answered, embracing him.

He buried himself in her and the Doctor was amazed to feel her climax again right away. Rose’s body arched and trembled as her lover pounded into her. The Doctor felt the bliss cascading through their minds, through the bond.  It made him long to crawl right back inside her, back inside her fiery embrace.  The emotion was incredible, yes, but the bodily connection made it even more complete. 

Now it was his turn to stroke and caress them through the afterglow.  Before long, his wiry, brown-eyed self pulled delicately free of Rose’s body and rolled to the side. 

“Now this is the life,” Rose murmured happily.  “One of you on each arm.  A girl might never let the two of you get out of bed.”

“Oh, well, someone, eventually, has to fetch chocolate,” the brown-eyed one suggested.

“Can’t you build a robot dog to do that?” she laughed. 

“That’s a good idea,” the Doctor said, lighting up.  He hadn’t thought of K-9 in ages. 

The three of them rested together for a while.

“Thank you,” the Doctor finally said.  “Thanks for coming to me.  Even if I don’t remember, it means everything to know the two of you are happy, together.”

“We’ve made it through so much, Doctor,” Rose said.  “I just couldn’t stand the thought of you here alone, suffering.  You deserve better.”

“My champion, Rose Tyler,” the brown-eyed one said, proudly.

“Always,” Rose said, and kissed them both.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
